Late at night
by Nymus
Summary: Night after the first day at the GMG, Rogue is tired. And Sting is stressed.


**Disclaimer: The characters belongs to Hiro Mashima**

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**Late at night**

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The room was barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the shadows growing tall and dark, making the objects seem bigger than they were. There was a muffled but constant rumor coming from the street through the open window, the curtain doing nothing to shield the world from the sharp senses of a DragonSlayer.

Sting's leg was bouncing.

The mattress chirred once and again every time he moved and it was probably getting on Rogue's nerves even if the other man had said nothing, content with lying on his bed looking at the ceiling. They hadn't said anything since they entered the room and the only real noise was the one coming from the goddamn mattress.

Sting didn't notice. He was too busy thinking to care about details.

Rogue had been musing too, since he sat on the bed a few hours ago, but he was already tired of acting as if nothing happened or he didn't care. In fact, he had been trying really hard to not care, but at it seemed there were things he couldn't just ignore. He counted until twenty three times before sighing and finally asking.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course." The annoying sound stopped, only to come back a second later. "I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine."

"Sting…"

"I said I'm fine."

"But, are you?"

"Why don't you just leave me alone, Rogue?"

"We share a room." Sting huffed when he heard him, and it almost stole a smile from Rogue. Maybe another time.

"What do you want?" The blond asked then, his voice caustic, and Rogue wondered. What did he want to, indeed? He thought for a moment, but there was no easy answer so at the end he avoided the question.

"You don't need to lie. I know you."

"You don't know shit!" Sting knew it was a lie, of course, but his words were more a defense than a truth anyway.

"Yes, I do."

"Don't act so full of yourself just because we used to be friends." The hurt was clear on Rogue's face for a moment, making the guilt burnt on Sting's guts. His brain felt scattered, searching for something that could fix his last sentence without making it look like he was trying to fix it. He didn't need to, of course, because Rogue reponerse fast enough and he turned his head to look at him, his eyes sharp when he said.

"Say what you want. I know you are scared."

World stilled around them.

"I- I'm not scared, don't be stupid!" A broken answer, more fitting for a scared child than the powerful White DragonSlayer.

"Yes, you are." Rogue insisted because he knew Sting and they were still some kind of friends, even when the blond liked to pretend they weren't. Even if it would have been easier if they weren't.

"Shut up, Rogue."

Rogue sighed and sat on the bed, his face showing how tired he was of the charade their relationship was or maybe of his life in general. At this point it was hard to know.

"It's okay, Sting, I'm not gonna tell anyone. I have never done and I won't now. It's just… You don't have to be alone, if you don't want to." None of them was supposed to be ever alone.

Sting's leg stopped and he looked to his friend's eyes that could say so many things at once. His walls crumbled.

"He's mad. He's really mad."His voice was barely a whisper, because even in their room it was never safe. "The stupid competition… he said he forgive me but. But. You know how this gets. You know-"

A hand fell on his shoulder, rubbing comforting.

"It will be fine. It's just the first one. We will win anyway." Rogue had sometimes wondered but tonight was not on of those days. It wasn't really an option they had, anyway. To win was the only possible way.

"What if- If we, if I fuck up again then." The blue eyes were wide when they looked up from the hand on his shoulder to the face near his own. "Rogue, he's gonna be so mad, I can't-"

"Breathe. Don't think like that. We'll win." There were more things he would have liked to say but he knew they wouldn't be well received at this moment. They would probably be more harmful than useful. So, Rogue took a deep breath and kept calm. He knew it would be okay, Sabertooth will win at the end so Sting didn't need to worry. Everything will be fine.

Sting obeyed and breathed. It smelt like Rogue all around. He wanted to hug him, hid his face on his neck like he did sometimes when they were kids and the world was looking particularly ugly.

He also wanted to cry so the big ball on his chest will disappear, washed away in the night.

But he couldn't, and so he breathed, and breathed again, and Rogue stayed with him, as he said he would. The hand on his shoulder felt warm, especially when it sometimes squeezed a bit, grounding him into the moment and chasing away gloomy ifs.

And Rogue stayed, silent and comforting, in that special way he always was. Until Sting calmed down and felt a little bit more like himself, like if he could maybe go outside tomorrow and be exactly what he was supposed to be. Until he was finally able to close his eyes and not feel like the room was closing all over him.

Rogue stayed, and the whole room smelt like him and it was almost like if they were small and happy again.


End file.
